


If Small Aim is a Crime; Have Great Aim  Affair

by Redd2



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redd2/pseuds/Redd2
Summary: Every crime has a unique personality. The crime itself reveal’s the distinct style and confidence of the mind that planned it. But those special crimes – the bold, daring crimes with flair and audacity – they are planned by a very singular type of mind. A mind that intrigues the hunter, challenges the predator, and seduces the hungry.  And, as happens in the game of crime, the planner can be caught.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_May I take a moment to express my gratitude for the patience you’ve shown this old codger in my autumn years as an amateur historian. While telling tall tales is admittedly second nature to one in my profession of Counter-Intelligence, I am rather pleased that you allow me to ramble on about the escapades of my fellow spies. Speaking of which, let us continue with this next outing._

_It was many years ago, when I happened to find myself in Rome. Ah, what a beautiful city. The most delicious Allesso di Bollito, the very best to be found within the narrow streets of Trastevere. And the Gelato, oh my. But I digress.  
It was my fortune to chance upon one of Thrush’s top investigators, Ms. Andersen. When we were on good relations, she was Vicky to me. A beautiful woman, witty, gay, well-educated, and the devil’s own serpent. And, as we were both at loose ends, we dined together at a little out-of-the-tourist-way establishment – where the food was splendid, conversation was private, and, for a small sum, no record of ever being there. I do know all the best places._

_I will never forget what she told me. “Every crime has a unique personality,” she said. By that she meant; every crime has a style, a nuance, something that reflects the mind that planned it. She had just walked away from a recent case. She had been taxed with trying to figure out the intellect behind a series of robberies so stunning it had Thrush’s finest completely baffled. She fully admitted it became one of the most important cases she had ever undertaken, an extraordinary crime and a dangerous race against time. I was intrigued.  
Here is her story._

_Yours respectfully,  
Redd_

**********

#### PROLOGE

  
A long hallway in a non-descript office building somewhere in Moscow. A heavy-set, nervous man walked cautiously down the hall, watching the office door numbers carefully. He was dressed as if he was going to a job interview; his best suit and overcoat. He stopped suddenly in front of one door and hesitated. He knocked once and waited. Hearing no answer, he knocked again – clearly not comfortable standing out in the hall. Being a native Muscovite, his Soviet training taught him long ago to fear being so exposed. He heard a door open somewhere down the way and almost jumped out of his shoes; his hands sweating heavily. Searching both sides of the hall, he tried the handle of the door and found it unlocked. He didn’t know it but he’d just passed the first test.

Hesitantly the nervous man entered the office. The room was pitch dark. He saw a movement at the far end of the room, a hand reached up, and suddenly an intense bright light was switched on directly shining in his eyes. “Hey…”  
Stumbling back, the nervous man called again, “Hey!” He tried to protect his eyes from the strong light, he couldn’t see beyond the brightness. “Hey what’s going on here?” 

A cold voice commanded, “Sit down.”  
Used to following orders, the nervous man sat in a single chair near the door. There was someone sitting on the other side of the light. From the voice, he could tell it was male and the accent said Russian born. The clipped voice said, “The job is work an hour. Do an errand. Drive a car.”  
Puzzled and apprehensive, the nervous man asked, “Is … is this dangerous?”  
“It shouldn’t be. But if anyone shoots, you are on your own. Quit, run – do what you want.” 

The man fidgeted in the chair. Even from just a voice, the nervous man could tell a professional. This was not a man he wanted to cross. “Uhhh… money? What’s in it for me?”  
“Fifty thousand. Maybe more. In monthly installments so no quick spending.”

“How do I know that I’ll get…”  
“You don’t.” the voice cut in harsh, unbending. “If you are in a hurry, if you will worry – then quit. Get out. Now.” 

The nervous man looked anxiously around the dark room, hesitating, unsure. The voice cut into his thoughts, “In or out?”  
“I’m in.”  
“Good.” The voice was calm, cold. “You will celebrate. Go buy a car.” 

“I don’t, ah…”  
An envelope was quickly tossed at, and barely caught by, the nervous man. “You do now,” the voice said. Shaken the man quickly opened the envelope – there was lots of money. “Buy a dependable car. Family size and a hatch in the back. Buy a … buy a blue car.” The nervous man could have sworn the voice found some humor in this last part.  
“Boszhe moi! Thanks. I …” 

“No side trips. Just yourself. It may be months before I need you. But remember, you come when I call.”  
The man didn’t think he could get more nervous.  
He rose and reached for the door. He hesitated and turned back “Uhh…”  
The voice cut him off, “No questions. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. You or me. Bye.” 

The light suddenly turned out and the room was dropped into overwhelming darkness. The nervous man quickly left the office.

Illya Kuryakin leaned back in his chair with an evil grin. Maybe Napoleon was right. He might have missed his calling as a criminal.  
Four other men were recruited the same way, in the same manner.

**********


	2. Chapter 2

#### ACT I – _“I leave that plan to you.”_

Deep inside the U.N.C.L.E. New York Headquarters, Mr. Waverly closed off the communication to his agent in the Soviet Union. Slowly and deliberately, he brought out his favorite pipe and began the long practiced process of re-filling and re-lighting. He reviewed the difficulties he had discussed with Mr. Kuryakin several months ago.

It seems Thrush has finally gotten a foothold into the Soviet Union. They have set up several satellite bases, fronting as offices, complete with operatives, administrative staff, and operating cash. It is this operating cash that is at the foundation of their operation. Mr. Kuryakin would be working with the Swiss Bank International (SBI) on this as they seem to have been unwitting accomplices to Thrush moving large amounts of cash into the Soviet Union. Understandably SBI is very interested in helping to straighten out this mess. 

Without this money, Thrush could not expand and widen their operations within the Soviet Union. The country, as it exists currently, is in a precarious balance economically. This sizable influx of cash could tip the scale into economic chaos that Thrush is hopeful for. Since any hint of this threat could cause wide-spread panic within the Kremlin and the Soviet Union, Mr. Kuryakin was the one most likely to send and he was the only U.N.C.L.E. agent Waverly was willing to authorize to enter the country. Because of the sensitive nature of this threat and the importance of this particular country, Mr. Kuryakin was warned that this plot must not be revealed to his contacts within the country. He would not be able to rely on his government resources either. 

Waverly remembered his last directions to the assignment. “You will need to use whatever other resources within the country you can find to accomplish your assignment – I leave that plan to you.” 

His young agent had progressed well. SBI had given Kuryakin an excellent cover as _Nicholas Jordan_ , a high-level financial advisor placed within their Moscow office. Mr. Kuryakin had just sent the message that his plan was in place and awaiting implementation. Waverly paused, considering the risks and the merits of the Russian’s ambitious campaign. Four robberies precisely timed and executed directly within each new Thrush-Soviet base. Waverly shook his head – the audacity of Mr. Kuryakin surpassed even Mr. Waverly’s expectations. If achieved, this could be a crushing blow to Thrush. 

Maybe the young agent had earned the support of his partner. “Miss Rogers. Contact Mr. Solo for an immediate flight to Geneva. His code name for this affair is to be George Richmond.”

**********


	3. Chapter 3

#### ACT II – _“It actually worked,” the Russian laughed!_

A meeting was going on within the stylish offices of Swiss Bank International (SBI), Moscow. SBI Managers, with their new Financial Advisor, just closed a deal with a group of European suits on behalf of Moscow industry. The suits were congratulating themselves over the complex business deal. Kuryakin checked his watch as he rose and, looking over other reports demanding his attention, he made to leave the room.  
At the door one of the suits, laughing and slapping each other on the back for putting one over on these bankers, called to him, “Aren’t you going to congratulate us, Mr. Jordan?”  
Not even bothering to look up, Jordan/Kuryakin absently mumbled as he went through the door, “You over-paid.”  
The condescending smiles on the faces of the men in the room quickly faded as they looked to each other in shock. One of the other SBI managers in the room also rose. “Ah, Mr. Jordan wishes you congratulations.”

“Miss Boskovic. Have legal simplify the language in this Mutual Account Proposal,” Kuryakin said, walking back to his office. “It is unacceptable.”  
A stunning secretary walking beside him responded “Yes sir.”

He turned to the other man running to catch up, “And Mr. Sapolsky, you will take over this account.” Kuryakin handed back the file as he continued talking to the SBI manager who had been in the last meeting. Concluding the business that was his cover as Nicholas Jordan.  
Miss Boskovic caught up again with the new Advisor. She wasn’t sure about his temper but she was quickly becoming impressed with his decision-making skills. “Oh Mr. Jordan. It’s Geneva again. They are repeating their offer. They went up a full point. They said it’s important that we get right back to them…” 

“We will wait” Jordan/Kuryakin said. Seeing Miss Boskovic hesitate, questioning his sanity, he gave her a small devilish smile “Always wait for the target to move into your position, Miss Boskovic, not theirs. We will wait until they call with one more half point.”  
Miss Boskovic smiled, acknowledging the strategy, if not understanding an old assassin’s trick.

**********

Jordan/Kuryakin went into the office he had taken for himself and again looked at his watch. It was **2:58.**  
At that same moment a man in a green suit entered the Moscow Airport and went immediately to the long bank of phones and waited by a specific one. It was **2:59**. 

Kuryakin buzzed Miss Boskovic outside his door. “Yes sir?”  
“No calls, no exceptions. Tell anyone who calls, I have left for the day. Then book me a flight tomorrow to Geneva. Cable a George Richmond at the Hotel Bristol Geneve, to meet my flight. Have you got that?”  
“Tomorrow. George Richmond. Got it.”

Precisely at **3:00** Kuryakin made another phone call. The green suit jumped as his phone rang.  
“Hello?”  
The voice the green suit expected said, “All clear at **3:00**. Check in again will be at **3:40**.” The call ended. Illya sat back and allowed a slow, sly smile of excitement.

A man with a hat was also waiting beside a row of phones at an outside square in the center of Moscow. He quickly called for the correct time and then stood by and waited. 

Another man in a cheap brown leisure suit hung up his phone in a public mall, having gotten the correct time.

The nervous man was at a pay phone outside the train station in downtown Moscow. The blue car was parked outside. He just took a moment to call for the correct time.

A dark man in a button-down shirt went into the Moscow Bus Station to make a call. When he saw the phone he was assigned was out-of-service, he panicked.  
Quickly he searched for another empty phone booth. All were busy. No one seemed ready to finish their call. He needed a phone! Finally, a woman hung up and left. Immediately that phone rang and the button-down shirt jumped for it.  
“Hello?! The phone was out of order and and, ….” the man began to explain.  
The voice on the other line said calmly, “Don’t worry, I have all the numbers. Be steady. It is **3:30**. So wait.”  
“I’ll be here,” the button-down shirt man promised as he sat by the phone to wait.

At **3:50** precisely, a call came to the phone that the man with the hat was watching. He grabbed it, “Yeah? Yeah!”  
“Go,” said Kuryakin.  
“I’m on my way,” the man said with a grin. 

“Go,” was the command given to the man in the cheap leisure suit and then repeated to the airport man in the green suit. 

“Go,” was also given to the nervous man with the car – which he then returned to and drove off. 

“Go,” spoke Kuryakin to the button-down shirt man. Illya’s adrenalin flowed as the mission began.

********

The men quickly moved through the streets of downtown Moscow. Some hid a canister under a newspaper they carried. All carried briefcases. They put on gloves and dark glasses as they walked.

Kuryakin sat down his teacup as he looked out his office window. He picked up his binoculars and focused on the street below. He saw airport man pause below, outside the building across the street. Illya lowered the glasses and smiled.  
Airport man went into the office building and entered the elevator to the fourth floor. Button-down shirt was already in the building. So were the other two. The men worked in concert, using the canisters filled with smoke to cause chaos and confusion. The men quickly entered the fourth-floor offices. They had been told exactly where the sacks of money were kept.  
Each took a sack and dropped it into their briefcase. First one and then another left the building in the confusion and dropped their briefcase into the blue car parked outside. Then they went their separate ways, removing their gloves and dark glasses.  
When the fourth man dropped his case into the car, the nervous man drove off. They had moved so fast, only now was the alarm sounding. 

Sweating with fear, the nervous man drove through the streets of Moscow to the old Cemetery in the outskirts of the city. There he delivered all the briefcases into a trash can near a specific grave site marker.

_“Blessed are the pure at heart.”_

the marker said in Russian Cyrillic.  
The nervous man then drove away, out of the Cemetery, back to his home.

The day was unremarkable for Moscow, biting cold, grey sky. Out here on the outskirts of the city, the cemetery was middle-of-the-week quiet. Kuryakin drove his car out from under cover and approached the cemetery marker. He smiled as he glanced at the script on the grave marker. Napoleon would have appreciated the words chosen by his partner.  
He quickly removed the briefcases and put them in the trunk of his car. Slowly he walked a circuit around the loaded car; wary, not touching it – as if it was a freak anomaly to be studied.  
A slow smile spread over his face in triumph. It was an unusual show of emotion for the usually reticent agent. _‘It actually worked’_ , the Russian laughed. 

Kuryakin slipped into the driver’s side of the car and, with great satisfaction, drove home to the townhouse he was staying at in the high-rent district of downtown Moscow.

**********


	4. Chapter 4

#### ACT III - _“Enjoy my money.”_

At the Geneva Airport, Kuryakin followed his fellow passengers through Customs. The officer took Kuryakin’s passport reading the name of Nicholas Jordan.  
“How many days do you plan to stay in Geneva?”  
“Two days.”  
“Business or pleasure?” the official asked by habit.  
“Business.”  
The bored official stamped the book, “Merci.” 

Kuryakin passed to the next official set up to check baggage.  
“Do you have anything to declare?”  
“No, nothing.”  
Illya scanned the crowd and saw a familiar face loitering by the gift shops. Shopping again, scoffed the Russian.  
When released from Customs, the two men met. Napoleon greeted his partner with a welcoming smile, glad to see him safe and sound. Clasping his partner on the shoulder, “Illya, long time no see. How did it go?”  
“Fine, Napoleon. Just fine.” Illya gave him a small smile.  
Napoleon took one of the two big suitcases that Illya had traveled with. “My, but these are heavy.”  
Illya smiled at his partner. “Hmmm. And where will you be taking me for dinner?”  
“Me? You should be taking me. It’s your turn to pay.”  
“Napoleon, I’ve pinched the goods. It is your turn to cop to a clip joint. And no dames see?”  
The American tsked, “Illya my, my. I see the criminal aspect of this mission has badly affected your vocabulary.” 

**********

Later that afternoon, Napoleon Solo sat in the office of Philippe Patek, General Manager of the Swiss Bank International. Patek’s assistant was counting the money Solo had delivered by appointment. “It’s all there,” he teased. 

The Manager looked up sharply, “Yes, sir. Of course. But, ah, what name shall we use?”  
Solo took a card from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to the assistant. “This is the Code name and the number for the account.”  
The assistant forwarded the card to his superior.  
“And what address?”  
“No address.”  
“But we do not know you. The forms …”  
Solo smiled with confidence. “But you _will_ do it.” The two men locked eyes.

Solo continued “There will be further deposits. Also in cash.” Solo smiled again, “You see we’re both in the same business. Banking.”  
Herr Patek smiled and signed for the deposit. He stood and handed the receipt to Solo. “Of course. What else can we do to help you, sir?”  
“Further instructions can be any month, any year. But they must all be dated the 11th of the month. Only the 11th. I’ve always been fond of that number.”  
“Yes sir, your orders will be carried out. Thank you, sir.”  
“Enjoy my money, gentlemen.” Solo tossed back as he passed through the door.

**********

When Illya first told Napoleon of his plan, he thought his partner insane. Napoleon remembered his first reaction. “Illya are you telling me that none of these thieves you will be using will know you or each other? That you are bringing this team of untrained armatures together for the first time to pull off some of the most complex jobs, without any prep. And you will not even be with them?”  
Napoleon was shocked at the enormity of the jobs and the audacity of his partner. “I’ll say this, you’ve got some nerve.”

At dinner that night, intrigued, the Chief Enforcement Officer asked another question. “Where did you get these men? The ones you used for your crimes?”  
Illya grinned at his partner’s discomfort. “As you know, Mr. Waverly said to use in-country resources.”  
“Illya you didn’t contact GRU did you?!” he asked knowing that his partner was forbidden to do so but also Napoleon’s thoughts turned to an old fear that his partner would return to past haunts. 

Illya scowled at Napoleon’s horror. “I used the civilian population.”  
“Civilian? As in ‘innocents’?” U.N.C.L.E. always shied away from using untrained, unknowing civilians or ‘innocents’ as they called them.  
“Hardly. These men are far from innocent, Napoleon. There is a wide network of professional thieves and criminals within the Soviet Union. I picked very carefully.”

Napoleon raised his glass and toasted his partner on the success of the first robbery.  
“To three more just as successful. It seems crime does pay.” Napoleon smiled.  
“To three more” replied Illya, grinning.

After dinner they talked more about the plan and any new developments.  
Illya would be making several trips between Moscow and Geneva under cover as a Swiss Bank International (SBI) employee. The frequency of the trips should acquaint the officials with Kuryakin enough that his entry would become routine and unquestioned. 

One thing Napoleon didn’t like was the vulnerability of this assignment to his partner. Neither of them was blind to the danger of Illya alone in the Soviet Union without backup. Each time Illya returned to Russia, there was great risk.

The check came and both men looked at it and then at each other. No one moved. Solo rolled his eyes – “Hey this is your mission after all. Not mine.”  
Under protest the younger man paid. But under Napoleon’s watchful eye, there was still criticism. “Come on, Illya. You can’t steal over 6 million in hard, cold cash and not leave a better tip than that.”  
“Napoleon, I thought tipping was a true expression of American capitalism. The least amount of money for the most service,” his partner said innocently.  
“I’ll admit, that is capitalism. But this size of tip is high-way robbery. But then Russian’s are known to rob and pillage.”  
Illya shook his head with false sadness, “No, my friend. You saw the service. This is justice.”  
As usual, Napoleon had to concede that the man was right again. Napoleon, not for the first time, shook his head at the devilish humor of his partner.

He thought of the plan again when he dropped Illya off at the airport the next day for his return flight to Moscow.  
“It seems everything hinges on you keeping your sweet self out of Thrush’s reach for a few more trips to Geneva. This will end abruptly if they grab you.”  
“I guess I’ll have to be lucky then.” Illya wasn’t smiling as he got out of the car.  
Napoleon also wasn’t smiling. He watched the solitary figure walk into the terminal, “You are going to need to be very lucky, old friend. And very careful.”

**********

#### ACT IV - _“I know he’s our man, Yuri. I know it.”_


	5. Chapter 5

#### ACT IV - _“I know he’s our man, Yuri. I know it.”_

The fourth-floor Thrush offices were overrun with men in jumpsuits with a bird logo on them. “There is nothing here, Chief.” The Thrush technicians were checking for fingerprints at the scene of the robbery and coming up empty. All of the thieves, it seemed, wore gloves.  
“Sy? Anything?”  
“You were right, Kostin. It looks like they used military surplus smoke bombs. You can get them anywhere in this crazy country these days.”  
Kostin shook his head in frustration. A robbery of this magnitude right under his nose; he wanted to personally kill whoever was behind this.

Deep inside the Thrush offices in Moscow many of the administration tasked with setting up operations in the Soviet Union were meeting.  
“Well gentlemen. It is a black day for Thrush when four men can walk in off the street and calmly scoop up over 6 million of Thrush money.”  
“Oh come on,” countered Yuri Kostin, the Chief of Thrush Security in Moscow. “We’ve been all through this! They didn’t just walk off the street. This was planned. Organized.”  
The other Thrush operative continued, “And it is a black day for Thrush Security that this happened. You can only hope for an informer.”  
Kostin’s face burned in anger and frustration. They would not pin this on him. He shot back in anger, “And it is not a good day for you when administration must explain this to Thrush Central, right?” The silence acknowledged this truth.

The Thrush operatives were in their seventh hour trying to find any clue to the horribly embarrassing theft. Their suit jackets were long abandoned as they sat late into the night. Coffee cups littered the meeting room as they were fighting amongst themselves to protect their positions against the fallout of this major set back.  
Kostin turned to the leader, an older man, sitting silently at the head of the table. “Mr. Richter, we don’t know who they are, where they are, or what they did with the money. Your money. They win, we lose.” 

Newly arrived James Richter was an emissary from Thrush Central sent to get a report on the disaster. “So far” he countered. “This was an intelligent, professional theft. And with Thrush Soviet Union still in the early stages of set up, a very devastating theft to us. Luckily we still have funds at 3 other sites in country but we must capture the thieves and recover the funds immediately. Make an example of them,” his cold eyes were deadly serious.

He stood. They all knew their very lives were on the line. “Gentlemen. Was this an U.N.C.L.E. operation?” His cold stare turned only to the Security Chief.  
Kostin slammed his hand down in frustration, “We just don’t know. None of the descriptions from witnesses match our files of known U.N.C.L.E. agents.”  
“Do you have any leads?”  
Kostin shook his head in frustration.

Thrush Central needed answers. Richter made a decision. “There is someone, a specialist that we bring in when we’ve run into a blank wall.”  
“Ah come on, Richter. Give me more time” Kostin pleaded.  
Richter was listening, “You won’t like her, but she always gets the job done. You will cooperate or this is on you Kostin.” Kostin heard the threat to his job and his life.

**********

Richter and Kostin met the Specialist at the Moscow airport.  
“Jamie!”  
Kostin heard the too-personal name of the high-ranking Thrush Central superior called across the airport terminal. There were few who dared to call the top Thrush leader by his first name let alone a playful variation.  
The voice was richly feminine but with no thought of caution or propriety. Kostin stared as he noticed Richter’s whole demeanor change. All the men in the surrounding area were gawking as the captivatingly beautiful woman swung herself into Richter’s arms. 

“Jamie, I missed you!”  
Richter tried to introduce Kostin but the woman was overwhelming. She took Richter’s arm and steered them both to the exit in a wave of dramatic energy.  
She ignored everything else except trying to keep her fashion hat on her beautifully styled blond head, and her short Paris original sheath and jacket flounced as she bounced past the men. Some say Swedish by birth, some un-kind say her accent was cultivated to be erotic, but all say she had a cold killer instinct.

“You know that it’s been more than a year? You don’t love me, you don’t call me, you don’t need me, and you don’t pay me. You’ve a heart of stone, Jamie darling.”  
The woman finally turned to the executive, “Oh, Jamie. You know, you look terrible.”  
“Thanks,” was Richter’s dry response followed by a kiss that could have been meant to heal the infirmed but it would have killed a weak heart.

Richter reasserted his control and halted their progress. “Vicky Andersen, I want you to meet Captain Yuri Kostin, Chief of Thrush Security in Moscow.”  
Andersen stopped and turned her full attention to the Captain. “Of course, the man in charge. I’ve read your report.”  
“I’ve heard about you.”  
“Ouch. A poison dart. You must be terribly impressed” the woman said sarcastically.

“Yes, with both of you,” replied Kostin taking in the couple. He was angry and he had thrown caution to the wind with his remarks but the woman merely chuckled.  
“My, how tactful you are.” Both men looked uneasy as if on some level they knew they were outmatched.

Richter ushered Andersen into a waiting limo. Kostin was irritated and was desperate to make his exit.  
“Well, this isn’t my reunion so I’ll be leaving you here. It’s been a pleasure meeting you Miss ahh …”  
The women realized the slight of pretending to forget her name. She relished his weak attempt and whispered to him, “Vicky.” Her sexually suggestive smile made Kostin even more unnerved as, he thought of course, that was her purpose.

“Yes, ah… Vicky.” Kostin mumbled. “You will call me before you leave town, Mr. Richter?”  
“I won’t be leaving town just yet Kostin.” And with that threat left in the air, the limo drove off.  
Andersen lowered her dark glasses to watch as they passed by Kostin. “Isn’t he something though,” she purred.

**********

The next day Kostin entered his office only to find the beautiful Andersen already there boldly going through his files.  
“Morning,” she called. Her designer outfit was out of place in the drab Thrush office.

Kostin stiffly walked over to his desk. “Just tell me. What’s in this for you?”  
She smiled, taking no slight at his bullish question. “Ten percent of everything recovered.”  
Kostin choked at the deal this woman had secured with Thrush. He knew Thrush was not known for its giving nature. Maybe what he had heard about the woman’s successes was true. 

Ignoring Kostin’s reaction, Andersen paced the room and thought out loud.  
“He knew the office routine. He knew the layout.”

“So did 722 others” Kostin responded. “That’s everyone who has worked or visited this building or these offices in the last six months. I’ve never seen so many records, and I’ve been over them all.”  
“Looking for what? A criminal record?” she asked shaking her head. “You’ve got to know what to look for.”  
Kostin scoffed at the wild musings of this so-called specialist.  
Andersen stopped and explained. “Every crime has a unique personality. A something that reflects the mind that planned it. And this one has…something very special.”

“Oh, that’s clever. Very clever.”  
Andersen frowned. “Ok. You work your way and I’ll work mine.” She moved to collect her things.  
“Now wait a minute, baby.” Kostin grabbed her arm, his grip bruising. “We’re in this together. You wanted in. You’re going to get 10 percent. So you earn your keep. You earn it!” 

Andersen paused and then came to a decision. Men had always tried to control her, to hurt her. As it had always been for her; she managed the pain just as she managed the man.  
Smiling sweetly, she changed tactics as she had had to do many times before. “All right, Yuri. Let’s start with the money.”  
Yuri let go of her arm. “Well, I don’t have it.”  
“Hmmm. But what would you do if you did? Over 6 million in cash.”

**********

Another Thrush site was hit. A little different plan but with the same speed, the same precision, and the same results. Over three million was taken this time. The order came down from Thrush Central, directly from the top of the organization.

__

_‘Find the one responsible for these robberies and terminate immediately.’_

This command was to be considered the highest priority.

Yuri and Vicky met at once. Yuri demanded “A week of thinking and what have you got?” He wasn’t sleeping, not eating. He was under enormous pressure.  
“Ohh…. ideas.” the woman mused. Calm, uncaring that Thrush was buzzing all around her.  
“Uh huh. Meanwhile where’s the money?”  
“Could be in Switzerland, a numbered account.”  
“Oh brother,” Yuri scoffed.  
“Well what else is he going to do with the money? Bermuda, the Bahamas, the rest of the world? There’re taxes, records, shaky currency, people to know, people to trust. And don’t forget he stole from Thrush. Their influence is everywhere.”

“Switzerland, huh? How did he get it through Customs? It’s rather bulky, you know.”  
Vicky pondered this. “The Swiss are notoriously casual about certain formalities. It’s the sixties – airplane luggage they hardly ever check at all.”  
“But he’d have to make more than one trip.” Yuri said getting into the spirit of things. “I could contact the airlines; have them make up a list of names. And then I could make up another list...”  
“Of the visitors to the Building” Vicky supplied.  
Yuri finished her thought, “I could then compare the two lists with the Thrush computer.”

In sudden inspiration, Vicky took out a pen and paper and drew a box with four lines in it.  
“What’s that,’ asked Yuri.  
Vicky’s clever mind was deeply intrigued about the crime itself. “This is the building here in Moscow that houses the Thrush offices. There are four ways in, four ways out. Suppose….”  
Her respect for the mind that conceived this plan grew. “Suppose they only met once.”

She chuckled. “Oh that’s beautiful.”  
“Now wait a minute…”  
“That’s pure physics.” Excited, she turned to Yuri, “Think of it. Never, never before, never after meet again. It’s lovely!”

Yuri shook his head. “No, it’s impractical.”  
“But why? He could have met them one at a time. Why should he trust them to know each other? For all we know, they don’t even know him.”

Yuri looked at her, thinking over the possibilities. “It would have to be split second timing. He would have to be excellent at planning and execution and at control.” Yuri prowled the room, thinking of the advantages to her premise and the disadvantages. “Then how did he pay them off?”  
That stopped her. She turned to think. “Maybe he didn’t. Not…all at once.”  
Yuri smiled, “Installments? They’re going to be awful nervous.”

Vicky’s eyebrows rose. That gave her an idea, she laughed. “Let’s advertise.”  
“Advertise?”  
She laughed at the game; the hunt was on. “Be a fink for 25 thousand.” Yuri did choke this time but he would have to hand it to the woman. She did have brains.

**********

The Thrush computer was working overtime on the list of comparisons. Cross referencing employees and visitors to their building with those that had made recent multiple trips to Switzerland; the results were five matches.

“The five files you asked for are on the desk, Captain Kostin.” Yuri and Vicky both sat at the desk to study the results. Vicky picked up the photos and left the text files to Yuri. He read the descriptions out loud.

“Number one – Bank vice president, age 46. He made eight trips to Europe. Some sort of business.”  
Vicky studied the man’s picture under the light “Nope.”  
Yuri paused and stared at the crazy woman but went on to the next file.

“Number two – this one is a lawyer. Now he made three trips across in the last 90 days.”  
“No, he’s too square. Yuck.”  
“He’s too square” Yuri mumbled shaking his head but he turned to the next file.

Vicky looked at the next photo – a slow smile captured her full lips.  
“Per…fect. Very nice.”  
The photo was of a very handsome man, sexy, serious, and maybe just a little self-mocking. He had the most delicious blond hair but those eyes …  
“Oh! You find him attractive?”  
“Hmmm, yes.”

“He was at our building 3 months ago. He’s with the Swiss Bank International as an Advisor. He works on Real Estate, Securities, and Currency Arbitrage.”  
“Arbitrage, what’s that?”  
“That’s buying and selling currency according to set detailed plans – netting the spread in two different markets. You need to be able to make quick, high-pressured decisions.”  
Kostin continued to thumb through the file notes, “It seems that he has a high position within the SBI. It says here; serious, highly intelligent, and suitably talented. He made two trips to Geneva in May and six since our robberies.”

“Ahhh.” Vicky’s eyes lit up with success.  
Yuri continued with the next file but Vicky didn’t put the photo of number 3 down. The smile never left her face. “What’s his name?”  
“Who, the Advisor? Nicholas Jordan.”

**********

“I know he’s our man, Yuri. I know it.”  
“You’ve had this man, Jordan, followed for two weeks with no results.”  
“Yuri, I know he’s our man.”  
He shrugged, “Then prove it.”

**********

Richter caught Andersen’s arm. “Listen to me very carefully, Vicky. This is not one of your games. This man, Jordan, works for SBI. He does not just work for them but is highly placed. Thrush must be very careful with SBI right now. Jordan could be just a clever young man at the wrong place and wrong time.”  
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”  
“And I don’t believe in hunches, even your hunches.”

“Take him, question him,” she argued recklessly. “Let me question him!”  
“Oh you would love that, I can tell.” 

Frustrated, Richter shook his head. “But it’s not that simple. Thrush has quite a bit of holdings with SBI right now and many cash transfers pending. Especially after the robberies, we can’t afford to distance SBI. Irritating them, interfering with one of their top executives, is just too risky on one of your impulses. I warn you Vicky, you wanted this assignment. But this time your reckless games will not be tolerated.”

Seeing his words were effective with the often-uncontrollable agent, Richter continued. “If this is only an exceptionally smart SBI man, you can’t touch him.” 

“And if he is U.N.C.L.E.?”  
Richter’s face went cold. “If he is U.N.C.L.E. they may only be interested in our SBI ties. Given time, Thrush will soon be transferred out of them and it won’t matter. Until then Thrush is vulnerable with SBI. You have shown me nothing that ties this man to the robberies nor the robberies to U.N.C.L.E. I don’t believe they are related. We have two separate incidents. Vicky, you will concentrate on the robberies. Leave SBI to me.  
“I promise you. If your young man turns out to be responsible for our troubles, you will have my permission to carry out his death sentence. But until then, you will have to find another man.”

**********


	6. Chapter 6

#### ACT V - _“What else can we do on a Sunday.”_

Kuryakin came through Customs and met up with Solo at the gate. As usual they carried his suitcases together and, that afternoon, Napoleon made the deposit at SBI while Illya cleaned up at the hotel. Later that night at dinner, they talked.

“Illya what’s going on? You seem on edge.”  
Illya leaned back in his chair. “I’m being followed.”  
“Now?”  
“No in Moscow.”  
“Who? Is it Thrush?” 

“Easy Napoleon. We knew that as I continue to hit their sites, Thrush might put tails on people that had visited their offices. You know being followed is what we expected.”  
“So why are you on edge?”  
Illya shrugged. He knew he had been careful. He knew he had given nothing away. But, Illya thought, four months was a long time to be under deep cover. 

“You seem to be having a lot of fun at our friendly bird’s expense” Napoleon teased.  
Illya smiled, if not a little tired, “It seems that I have indeed poked the hornets nest.”  
“Well, Illya, you’ve turned out to be not only crafty but you make a damn good burglar.”  
“Does it show?”  
“No. You hide it well,” the American said in mock seriousness.

But Napoleon understood. Several months of being under this kind of pressure would get under anyone’s skin. He knew it took a lot of nerve for Illya to maintain his place in Moscow with Thrush breathing down his neck. Even their regular banter was affected when they talked about new details.

“Mr. Waverly sends his best.” Illya raised his eyebrows at that. “It seems that Thrush is indeed pulling out all the stops to put a halt to your robberies. They want their money back very badly.”  
He watched as his partner absorbed this news.  
“They’ve even sent in a Specialist. A Miss Vicky Andersen.” Napoleon thought to himself, _‘things were liable to get very hot in Russia.’_

“Andersen? What do we know about her?”  
“Not much. Just that she’s beautiful, deadly, and seems to be very effective at problem solving.”  
“Splendid.” 

Napoleon thought for a moment then leaned forward; a small twinkle came into his eye. “You know, Illya, there is a Thrush satellite office here in Geneva. We could go see if there is more information on her.”  
Illya groaned at his partner’s boldness “You’re mad, absolutely mad.”  
Napoleon shrugged, “What else is there to do on a Sunday?”

**********

When the man portraying Mr. Jordan returned to Moscow, he had an important event to attend.  
“Sir, I know there are other things on your desk, but SBI Management asked that you specifically oversee this contribution for them,” Jordan/Kuryakin’s SBI assistant Mr. Sapolsky, explained as they crossed the main street to enter the Auction House. “The big event is to sell off pieces of art, the proceeds to go to the Moscow Ballet Company.”  
“It is fine. Don’t worry about it.”  
Sapolsky sighed with relief. “Well thanks, I feel better that you’re here. You’ve done the research after all.”

“One fifty. One fifty.” The auctioneer, already announcing that rates would be called in Pound Sterling to accommodate the International guests, had started. The architectural room was a buzz of voices of Moscow’s elite as well as the well-connected. Several people were in the mix already with a few bids of their own.  
Mr. Sapolsky began circulating and shaking hands with different sponsors. As Kuryakin scanned the room he paused to notice the strikingly beautiful woman that was currently bidding. He raised his eyebrow; it was none other than the infamous Vicky Andersen of Thrush. Her profile still clear in his mind from the one uncovered at the Thrush offices he and Napoleon ransacked just a few days ago.  
Now what was she doing here?

Mr. Sapolsky had already mentioned the piece that SBI Management wanted to bid on. “According to your report, the lithograph is not worth anything over 500,” Mr. Sapolsky said.  
Illya continued to watch Andersen as he discussed other bidding prospects with SBI.  
The piece, the lithograph, came up to the podium. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we start the biding at 200 for this very rare lithograph depicting the five senses. The proceeds are going to our famous Moscow Ballet. Remember this, if you please, as you bid.”

Andersen had noticed when the SBI team, with Jordan, had entered the room. She recognized him immediately from the photograph but it didn’t do justice to the athletic build of his body, his sexy hair, and those striking blue eyes.  
She shook her head in frustration. Richter was a fool. He was underestimating the complexities of the robberies. Andersen was sure of her instincts and her instincts pointed directly to the man across the room. He was the key.  
But she would need to tread carefully. Richter would not be able to save her if she miscalculated with so much at stake and with SBI involved. This was the biggest game she had played yet and she reveled in the excitement.

As the auction began, Andersen’s information turned out to be correct. SBI wanted to purchase the lithograph and they were sending Jordan to orchestrate the bidding. He already had the amount up to 300.  
“325 please,” she called. Her glance to him would fry eggs on a sidewalk but Jordan seemed immune to it.

Watching, Jordan frowned. A challenge? SBI had instructed him to make the most of this opportunity for good will with the Soviets. So be it. He turned to the auctioneer and held his hand up with five fingers out.

“Now I am bid 500! Thank you for your generosity sir.” The auctioneer was surprised at the jump in offer. “Any other bids? Going once. Going twice. Sold!”

Andersen came through the crowd surrounding SBI. She boldly walked up to Jordan/Kuryakin and held out her hand. “Vicky Andersen.”  
Jordan bowed over her hand and formerly offered, “Nicholas Jordan.”  
She appraised him with her eyes.  
“I wanted that lithograph.”  
The man before her coldly appraised her in return.  
“Then you should not have let me win the bid.”

Her eyes undressed him as she slowly smiled “Have a drink with me instead?”  
He paused while he weighed the risk over the opportunity for information. A mission was nothing if not with risk – and his interest was peaked. “Done.”

As they walked over to the bar, the conversation was to take on the tenor of a high-stakes chess game between two dangerous, highly intelligent players both with their own agenda.  
Jordan/Kuryakin asked, “The art. Are you here representing or just for yourself?”  
“Myself…. I work for a large insurance company,” she replied. It was her usual line to explain her work.  
He smirked softly, “I’m covered.”  
She paused to let the effect of her watching him unsettle him. “Oh I do hope so.”  
Jordan paused, an eyebrow rose. Had Thrush already marked him or were they just fishing. Just what did she know.

They picked up their drinks and Jordan followed the lady outside to the patio area. Andersen continued, “For my company. I … I investigate.”  
“Anything in particular?”  
“Robberies, Mr. Jordan. The caper. There have been several lately here in the Soviet Union. About the time you were transferred, it seems. Large amounts of cash have disappeared.” The opening gambit in chess was made.  
“I hate it when that happens.”  
It was a brazen approach, Jordan had to admit. The intense blue eyes scrutinized the woman before him. She was very beautiful, exquisite even, and very smart to have survived Thrush in the capacity that was her expertise. The information he and Solo gained on their little jaunt last weekend was a surprising mix of her successes and the unsettling chances she seemed to take. 

“You don’t expect us to take this kind of loss lying down do you?”  
“Am I supposed to know what you are referring to?” he asked, his attention seemingly going elsewhere, distracted. The reply move on the chess board was unexpected. She didn’t like being dismissed.  
Playing the innocent, he still didn’t think his cover was blown. His instinct said she was fishing. His information said that Thrush needed to be careful of SBI. He could use that.  
Andersen frowned and turned her head to the rest of the auction crowd before them. She had never experienced disinterest before. It infuriated her! Either he was in the clear or he had exceptional nerve – but which. 

She watched him over the rim of her glass; the way he moved, the way he seemed to weigh what he said before he spoke, the interest in his eyes even as he proclaimed disinterest. This told her he was the one. She wanted it to be – badly. Her mind was busy looking for an edge with this man.

“Ask me something,” she prompted. Pawn sacrificed.  
His move he thought and asked, “They pay well do they? Your insurance company?”  
“It depends on the caper.”  
His bishop to her rook. “Then you are sort of an American type head hunter, are you not?”  
“You could put it that way, yes.” Their conversation was a master class chess game of subtle and hidden meaning.  
He leaned in close, close enough to smell her expensive perfume. “Hmmm. And whose head are you after, Miss Andersen?” Check.  
“Why yours, Mr. Jordan.” Counter check.  
“Mine you say?!” he asked surprised. Illya didn’t expect such an open threat.  
“Yes. Yours. Very much yours.” Vicky smiled sweetly. 

Later that evening found the two strolling the riverbank amid the open cafes. They retuned to their table and sat. Nicholas/Illya leaned back relaxed. Vicky felt very intimate with this man and moved boldly into his personal space.  
He took a quiet sip of wine. “It seems you practically said I had something to do with these robberies of yours.”  
“No, I said it. And not just practically.”  
“And just exactly what do you think you’ve got on me?”  
She pulled back slightly, moved her glance to take him all in and laughed.  
“I can’t tell you that. It would spoil the fun. Yours and mine. The fun is your finding out just what I’ve got.” Her coy smile left little doubt that she didn’t only refer to the robberies.  
His blue eyes held hers with an interest she was finding fascinating to read.  
“What an interesting way to put it” he said.  
They both knew that they had just gone to a whole new level of the game.  
Illya turned away, watching the café patrons. “It could be that I am just an ordinary banker in an ordinary job. It could be that you _want_ something to be true more than it is true.”  
She caressed his arm, taking his hand entwined in hers – bringing his attention back to her. “That is my job. To find out. You see, these robberies are not ordinary. Anything but. And my hunch is that you, Mr. Nicholas Jordan, are anything but ordinary. But don’t worry. If you are nothing but a banker, SBI need not be concerned.”  
Ah, Thrush was sensitive to the SBI connection. Good.

“Tell me,” he broached, “do you always get your man?”  
“Of course.” She was completely pulled into the game now.  
“And do you think you will get me?”  
Vicky sat back and searched the face of this man, his steady cool gaze. She took her time to answer. She found she wanted him very much and not just for the assignment. This one was different. He wasn’t as easy as she thought, he may even be a bit dangerous. A challenge. Yes, she definitely wanted him.  
“Will I get you? Oh I do hope so.”  
Illya toasted her silently with his drink.

At the end of the evening, they were preparing to separate. Her cab was waiting. Vicky turned to him and asked, “Friday?”  
“What about it?” His features closed, calm, very cool to her.  
“Us. Dinner?”  
Illya looked at her, looked at the cab waiting, the traffic of Moscow going by, and the Thrush operative that had been following them. It was a risk. Napoleon wouldn’t like it but he was in this far too deep to turn back now and they needed more time for the money transfers. He would have to make some changes in the plan, though.

“How about six?”  
“Perfect.” Vicky replied.  
She gave him a radiant smile in anticipation. A step closer to the kill, she thought as she planned the next step in the game.

As the cab drove away, Illya sighed at the prospect of explaining this to Napoleon. 

**********


	7. Chapter 7

#### ACT VI - _“Let’s play something else.”_

Another Thrush site was robbed in the Soviet Union. This was robbery number three. Thrush Central was explosive. The drain on cash would soon require that they shut down the entire operation. Richter himself was coming under fire. The robberies seemed unstoppable. They were too well planed and no matter how prepared and fortified the bases were, this relentless man and his team were always one step ahead of them.

Within Soviet Thrush Headquarters, a very worried Richter was pouring over reports and communiques from every source within the wide expanse of the country looking for answers, clues, anything. The harried assistant entered Richter’s office.  
“It has just been reported that Napoleon Solo is in Switzerland.”  
“Solo? Is he alone?” Richter hesitated. Then he demanded. “Where is his partner?”  
Reading the report as he walked, the assistant added, “That would be, Kuryakin. Illya Kuryakin. We have no report on him as yet.” 

Richter walked away slowly in thought. Solo close by in Switzerland. His partner unaccounted for. Wait, his partner … Russian!  
He immediately strode down the hallway, down the stairs, onto the Captain’s floor and, busting through the closed door, right into Kostin’s office. It was telling of the crisis that he did not announce himself.  
“Kostin! You will find the partner, Kuryakin. You will find him now!”  
Kostin had never seen the Thrush executive so enraged. This did not bode well.

**********

The nervous man saw the advertisement. It asked about a car used in a robbery. It sounded like they knew all about the blue car. The advertisement offered 25 thousand! He should check into it. That’s all. Ask a few questions. It was too good to pass up.

**********

Yuri and Vicky met that morning. “Well, we finally got one good lead on that advertisement we ran.”  
Vicky went right on reading the latest reports. “Oh?”  
“A petty thief right here in Moscow bought a car.”  
She looked up quickly. Excited. “A blue car?”  
“Yes. And he paid cash. The same day he bought the car, he rented a safe deposit box.”  
“Can we drill the box?” she pressed.  
“The Soviet banks do tend to frown on such things.”

“Yuri, take the car. Even better, take the man.”  
Yuri watched her. The excitement in her eyes was mesmerizing.  
“Yes, all right. We’ll bring him in.” 

As he turned to go, Vicky caught his arm, her eyes intense. “And Yuri, do what ever it takes to make this man talk.”  
Yuri was only now beginning to see what lengths this woman would go to win.

**********

Word had come from Richter that the U.N.C.L.E. agent, Illya Kuryakin, was in the Soviet Union and possibly behind the robberies. Vicky thought she knew exactly where Illya Kuryakin was.

Vicky and Yuri listened to the tape of the nervous man’s interrogation. A pain filled voice said, “I just heard the voice at an office building here in Moscow. I didn’t see him. I never saw him. He was hidden.”  
The interrogator pushed for more, “The voice, his voice, was it Russian?”  
“Yes, he spoke Russian.”  
“No, was the voice native Russian?”  
“Oh no more. Let me rest.” The man moaned.  
“Was the voice native Russian!?”  
“Yes. Yes it was.” 

“What a mind. What a man,” gushed Vicky caught up in her emotions. They were close, very close. She could feel it.  
“Yeah, terrific.” Yuri sighed, rubbing his head. “Well, you were right. The thief gets his checks in installments from a bank right here in Moscow. They get their funds from a bank in Geneva. And guess what? A numbered account.”  
Vicky turned and smiled to herself in triumph! She lived for the chase.

Kostin walked around the desk, “Well all you have to do now is bribe your way through a numbered Swiss account.”  
Vicky shook her head, “We can’t. I know the Swiss. I’ve tried.”  
“You’re not giving up?” Yuri frowned.  
Vicky sighed. Anyone who knew her would know better than to ask that. She turned to him. “Look Yuri, I’m here. I’m here for the money and I’m immoral. And I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll get this son-of-a-bitch. Believe it.”  
Yuri thought he could believe that.

**********

At another SBI strategy meeting, Jordan/Kuryakin and others sat around a table. The phone rang and Miss Boskovic took the call.  
Jordan looked up when he heard, “Vicky Andersen is on the phone, sir.”

Only his side of the conversation could be heard by those in the room.  
“Hello there.”  
Then, “Meet tonight at the Police Station? I can do this. Of course.”  
A pause, “Oh, something unexpected came up.”  
Then he said, “Room 515. Yes, at 6:00. I’ll be there.”  
He carefully replaced the phone, deep in thought.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Jordan.” Miss Boskovic broke into his thoughts. “I got a call earlier about the rug men.”  
“Rug men?” Jordan asked as he tried to rub some of the tension out of the back of his neck.  
“Yes, they said they were measuring your house for the new wall-to-wall carpet that you wanted to install.”  
“What carpet?”  
“I don’t know sir that is why I’m asking you.”

A small smile came to Illya at this new prospect. He couldn’t help the humor of it all. Thrush was at this very moment searching his rental house.  
He quickly did an inventory and knew he had left nothing for them to find. Thrush was getting bolder and he knew Vicky was behind it. Napoleon wouldn’t like this news. On second thought neither did Illya.  
Illya sighed as he knew he would have many more listening devices to add to his collection. The good news was that if they were listening and searching, they still didn’t know enough to take him out. Thrush still needed to be careful of SBI.

He wondered if Napoleon would buy that theory also.

**********

Jordan/ Kuryakin showed up at the Police Station at 6:00 outside of door 515. His tailored suit over a white turtleneck was out of keeping with the dark, dirty hallways and tension filled staff of the station house.

Vicky was nowhere in sight.  
He looked over at a chair across from the door and there was the nervous man, one of his robbery team. The man looked a little worse for wear. _‘Thrush interrogation,’_ Kuryakin thought. Not much of a work-over was Illya’s professional opinion.  
He sat in another empty chair outside the room. Kuryakin had been expecting a test of some sort so he had prepared himself. This was obviously a set up.

Outside room 515, the two men sat facing each other, seemingly oblivious of any connection or tension. The nervous man smiled at the man sitting across from him. His Soviet training told him the man must be KGB – no fidgeting, no outward sign of nerves, no thumping foot, even his fingers were quiet. _‘Always look at the hand’,_ he thought. That will tell every time. The nervous man’s fingers were rubbed raw. Sitting in a police station and no nerves – must be KGB. No one was that free from guilt.

Thrush was watching the two men, using three separate hidden cameras.  
“Nothing!” said Yuri slamming his fist in frustration. “No reaction, no sign of recognition from either one of them.”  
She smiled as she studied her Mr. Jordan. “Yuri. Come meet my man.”

Vicky emerged from behind door 515 and addressed Jordan. “I’m ready. Thank you for waiting.”  
“No problem.” Jordan rose to help her on with her jacket.  
Another man exited from 515. “Goodnight, Vicky. Have a good time.”  
“Oh, Yuri. I’d like you to meet Nicholas Jordan. Nicholas this is Captain Yuri Kostin. Yuri is the Chief of Security where our first robbery took place.”  
Both men locked eyes as they measured each other.

Jordan/Kuryakin was first to extend his hand. “I will not say a thing until I talk to my lawyer.”  
Yuri didn’t laugh but he did attempt to crush the extended hand. That didn’t get anywhere either. Illya hated it when Thrush lost their sense of humor. It was never a good sign. 

“Shall we go?” Jordan said as he offered his hand to Vicky.  
Vicky paused innocently at the exit, turning to Jordan. “Oh, don’t forget our prisoner. Say good night, darling.”  
Jordan turned to the nervous man, the man who got greedy and got caught, “Good night, darling.”  
They heard the prisoner laughing at the joke as they left.

She watched him as they waited for the elevator. He had let no sign of recognition of the thief show on his face nor did she catch him as they left, saying the thief’s name.  
“Like ice,” she spoke into the silence between them.  
Nickolas’ eyebrows rose with question.

Her intensity enveloped them. “Round three. You won this round but that’s your only round so far.” Her game.  
His amusement got the best of him as he smiled.

_‘Even his sexy smile gives nothing away,’_ she thought.  
“Let’s celebrate,” she ran her hand down the lapel of his jacket. “Where should we go?”  
She was hungry and she wanted him, now more than ever. She wondered if he felt it. It was all a game to her after all.

**********

Illya watched as Vicky walked through his rental house. He had decided to take her there for dinner. After all the risk was minimal – they had already searched it. And, truth be told, the risk appealed to him.

She had let him remove her rich luxurious coat, slipping it off slowly, making him work for it. Removing the coat, revealed bare arms and a designer gown of soft pink silk. It excellently reflected her long, trim body and the peek-a-boo cutouts in the dress were exquisitely placed.  
He watched her beautiful body move as she explored the house. He watched as she picked specific doors in her search, he could see her mind at work.  
Vicky hesitated in front of the closed door of what must have been his private study. She looked over her shoulder at him – for approval? For permission? Or just to get a reaction.

“Wall-to-wall carpet…” Illya scoffed as he shook his head, remembering her earlier orchestrated search of his flat.  
She grinned. A most fascinating effect. And then she boldly pushed open the doors to his study.

She knew immediately these were not his things. They didn’t fit him. Even if this was a temporary rental, surly there would be something of the SBI Advisor here in the house, in his private study.  
That there was nothing, spoke volumes in support of Vicky’s hunch that this man was U.N.C.L.E. Only an agent would have no need of personal items. It was frustrating that no physical evidence she had uncovered so far would help her prove her case with Richter and Thrush. But the evening was still early.

They had wine with dinner and brandy afterwards in the study. The meal, the wine selection; all were carefully cosmopolitan. Dinner was remarkably absent of any clues to his identity, nothing she could attach to the choices he had made.  
It did show what she believed was in his nature; careful planning. That he watched her so well, read her so well, was also telling. This was an extraordinary man. She wanted him more than ever. Vicky was enjoying herself immensely.

“You live well, don’t you?” she asked, brandy in hand, roaming the room.  
“I have no complaints.” He was seated, watching her.  
“It would be a shame to have to give all this up. Wouldn’t it?”  
“Ordinary bankers don’t usually have to give up their residence.”  
“Oh yes. That’s right. You’re an ‘ordinary’ banker. I keep forgetting.”  
She came upon a game of chess, in progress on a chess board. This interested her. That it was here, in the private study was interesting. She looked across the room, to those intense blue eyes watching her.

“Do you play?” he asked.  
Her eyes captivated him with their hunger. That captivating Mona Lisa smile again.  
“Try me.”

The chess game started off with bold moves and quick, snap decisions. Soon, however, the tenor of the game changed and the tempo slowed way down.  
Vicky began to play with her pieces between moves.  
_‘It was exquisite sexuality’,_ he thought.  
She would take a piece to move and slowly tease it between her open lips. Her tongue would curl around it, the wetness shining the piece. Illya usually played a very strategic minded game but the constant touch of her knee to his under the table, her hand lounging on the side of the board near his was extremely distracting.

Vicky leaned back in her chair, her designer dress neckline opening invitingly. He was finding it harder to concentrate on the game as he saw her hand smooth out the line of her dress along her breast, back and forth.  
He took a deep breath to try to refocus.  
Her hand glided up the skin of her arm to her bare shoulder, the merest caress. You would almost think he gave her a look, pleading for her to stop the sexual onslaught as he fidgeted in his chair.  
She grinned innocently with pleasure. 

Both of them tapped their fingers on the table with the building of electricity in the air. Illya felt as if his body was on fire with tension.  
Her beautiful hazel eyes drilled into him with bold sexual hunger; making him shift again in his chair. _‘She has a perfect face, a perfect mouth,’_ Illya found himself thinking.  
He bit his lower lip. 

She moved her fingers up to her mouth, caressing her lips, taking her finger into her mouth to wet it. Her finger glistened as she pulled it slowly out of her mouth, only to plunge it in again, into the depths.

“Check,” she said startling him.

Illya sat looking at the board. Abruptly he rose from the table moving away and around the room. She watched him and hesitated, taken off pace by his movement, his removal. _‘He moved like a cat’,_ she thought. All ice and heat at the same time.  
Suddenly he came to her and pulled her up into his arms, “Let’s play something else.” 

The kiss was quickly deep and open mouth and enfolding as both were overcome with the energy they had built up.  
The night swirled with the passion of the game.

**********

The next day at Yuri’s office, Vicky entered energized. “We’re clicking. We’re clicking at last.”  
“Calm down. Not so fast.” Yuri wondered what had happened to put her in such a mood. “What’s clicking?”

She laughed, “He doesn’t know if I have something on him or not. We need to keep following him. Closer all the time.”  
She laughed as she saw Yuri’s puzzlement, “Let’s tap his phones. Squeeze him. We must keep the pressure on,” she said as she paced the office.

He sighed but agreed. “All right. I’ll squeeze. You’ll squeeze. But so will he. If he is only SBI. If he is, Central will not be happy.”  
“I’m telling you he’s not. He’s more than that.”

“I hope you’re right.” Yuri frowned, deeply worried they were being taken for fools. One way or another Yuri would hurt this Jordan guy if he made a fool of him. U.N.C.L.E. or not. He would make him pay.

**********

Nickolas and Vicky had more outings. He found he enjoyed her company as they browsed old book shops, the outside markets. They spent their nights together and she cooked breakfast for him. She had never cooked for anyone before.

Yuri was growing increasingly worried. Instinctively he wondered if Vicky wasn’t getting too involved. He would have to report this to Richter. Thrush was never pleased to hear about their agent’s objectives coming into question or emotional entanglements getting in the way of their plans.

If this man was U.N.C.L.E., Thrush Central would want to know who had influence over whom. Mixing with the enemy was always a deadly game. He knew Vicky was the best at playing it but was she in control of the game this time?

If he was U.N.C.L.E., Vicky could find herself outmatched. And right now, Thrush Central was in the least forgiving mood he had ever seen because of these robberies.

**********

Vicky and Yuri were again in his office, his intense worry overwhelming. “Do you know what you are doing? I think Jordan has you under his control.”  
“I know what I’m doing. Don’t put your worries on me, Yuri. It won’t be easy. It won’t be fast. But he’s the one. And I will get him. He’s mine!” she said with emphasis.

Yuri exploded, “Damn it! You are something else. You really are. You’re going to get us both killed!”  
She walked over to Yuri and handed him a box wrapped in beautiful paper.  
“What the hell is this?”  
“Well, it was for your birthday, but I think I should give it to you now.” She smiled and left his office.  
He threw down the files in his hand and sighed. He ripped open the gift. It was a desk ornament that said,

**“Think Dirty.”**

  
He laughed in spite of his worries. He laughed at the audacity, the boldness, and at the irreverence. It was so ‘her’.

**********

#### ACT VII - _“What is this. A last supper?”_


	8. Chapter 8

#### ACT VII - _“What is this. A last supper?”_

“There’s quite a view from here.”

“Here, take a better look.” Nicholas handed Vicky a pair of binoculars. They were in his office at SBI in downtown Moscow. Vicky looked down and saw what an excellent advantage of the Thrush offices Nicholas had.  
“Look up across the street. On the roof of that building,” he directed her. She saw two men, Thrush agents that Yuri had set up to watch Jordan from the roof.  
Nickolas sat down behind his desk, his chin in his hand. “They must be costing you a small fortune. Those are the characters that follow me daily.”

She turned from the window as she marveled at his nerve. Even now, with all the pressure Thrush was applying, he was calm. His gaze was steady on her, his face gave nothing away. If he was who she thought he was, he was proving harder to trip up than she first thought. But she knew this couldn’t be easy for him. He was undercover, without backup, and without resources. He must be feeling the pressure!

“Following you is following me. I don’t like it any more than you do.”  
“But they work for you,” he pointed out.  
Nickolas/Illya still thought he could still play the ‘I’m innocent’ game with her. He knew Vicky was stepping up on the pressure but they still had not confirmed he was behind the robberies. With SBI as his cover, he had decided to push back a little and invite her to the office as a reminder.

Vicky nodded, “Yes, they work for me. But I did an even worse thing yesterday.” She smiled, wickedly pleased at her treachery.  
“I’ll just bet you did.” Nickolas said quietly as he leaned back in his chair, waiting.  
“I called the Soviet Internal Review Board …. on you.”  
“Beautiful.”

Napoleon had just heard from Illya. Thrush, Vicky Andersen in particular, was really putting the pressure on Illya’s movements in the Soviet Union. This latest added worry of the Soviet Internal Review Board was bothersome. They were running out of time.

Napoleon disagreed with his partner that SBI could still adequately protect him. Philippe Patek, the General Manager of the Swiss Bank International, was getting strong pressure from several of their largest share holders to release information on all employees currently working in the Soviet Union. Thrush pressure was written all over the request.  
The U.N.C.L.E. partners were right to have set this up protecting Illya’s identity. But would it be enough to protect him until they completed their mission and got him out safely? Illya had delivered the latest batch of cash last weekend. This final phase of Illya’s plan would be the riskiest yet.  
Damn it, Napoleon thought, as he paced.

That night Illya dressed in all black, his old standby, and left his rental townhouse by the roof. He had chosen this particular house for this very reason. The neighborhood had an excellent roof system that made exiting his property unseen relatively easy. He effortlessly bypassed the Thrush watchdogs. He had some last-minute plan changes to work out with the team that was left and he had to replace the nervous man and the car. It would be their last robbery.

**********

“Thrush has been had, Vicky girl. Would you like to know where your boyfriend went last weekend?” They were both having a working lunch in his office.  
“No.”  
Yuri set aside a file he had out. After a moment, Vicky held out her hand. Yuri handed the file to her and watched her response.

“Those are photos of Napoleon Solo, a top U.N.C.L.E. agent, and he is waiting for a flight at the Geneva airport.  
“That next photo is Solo and beside him is U.N.C.L.E. agent Illya Kuryakin. His partner. His Russian partner.”  
Vicky recognized Nicholas Jordan immediately as he stood next to a handsome dark-haired man. Yuri saw Vicky’s eyes dance over the next few photos of the two men greeting each other, carrying large suitcases, and leaving the terminal like old friends. 

“Thrush believes that our money is in those suitcases.”  
“So.” She looked away, lost in thought. “It is confirmed.” 

Vicky should have been triumphant. But as Yuri observed, she was quiet. It was not what he expected and that troubled him greatly. He couldn’t tell if it mattered or not but Thrush had wanted him to make sure she knew. Thrush was watching both of them now and the organization made it clear they wanted results soon.  
Vicky frowned. She and Jordan, or now Kuryakin, had both found a strange oasis in their times together. As if the game was suspended only when they were together. But things were quickly getting difficult. Jordan was confirmed as U.N.C.L.E. agent Kuryakin and she felt Yuri was watching her. The game was getting very complicated and somehow the game had changed on her.

**********

It was that very night, at a small intimate dinner at his townhouse, that she finally broached the truth with Nicholas Jordan – alias Illya Kuryakin. They were both sitting together in the study, having their usual after dinner wine. It was so quiet, so calm, so familiar to her. She leaned forward and focused on him.

“This was an excellent dinner, Nicholas or should I say … Illya.” Thrush had not given Vicky permission to reveal their information but that had never stopped her before.  
Illya leaned back as she spoke.  
Vicky had wondered how he would take the news. She was not disappointed. His cool gaze did not waver. But she knew he would remember the house had listening devices so she would have expected him to be careful.

“You can’t ever escape them, you know. They know everything. They know you are U.N.C.L.E. They’re watching your every move. They are on your back, my love.”  
He shrugged and smiled, “It is not unexpected.”  
Vicky had a thought. “Listen ...” She put her hand over his, “Let me make a deal for you.”

Illya thought for a moment and then reached for the phone. She would need to find out for herself, probably for the first time in her life, he thought, what was really at stake. He pushed the phone close to her, “Call your man,” he said.

Vicky, nervous, excited, hopeful, dialed the private number to Richter. Already plotting how she would manipulate the situation, she mumbled to herself as she dialed, “I can protect you. I can make this work.”  
Illya leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“James? I’m with him now, the U.N.C.L.E. Agent.” A pause while she listened. She interrupted, “Yes, yes. Look. He wants to make a deal.”  
Richter’s voice was harsh, raw, cold. “A deal? Sure, we can make a deal. After you have him in chains.”  
“Jamie….”  
“No deals. Tell him to come in. Bring the money. All of it.”  
Vicky tried again, “But with the money returned …”  
“I said no deals! You know your assignment. We want the money and we want him. Dead. Now complete your assignment. And Andersen … don’t fail.”

Illya gently took the phone out of her hand and hung it up. She was in shock. His soft voice in the quiet of the room got through to her. “Don’t you see? There is no way out. This really never was a game. You’ve done too good a job, Vicky.”  
He kissed her lightly on the shoulder. “I’m all hung up.”

Her face showed the horror that only now was becoming real to her. What had she done? Wait, this was her job. She was very good at it. But her target was this man sitting so calmly in front of her. Her face contorted in confusion and fear. Fear for the first time.

**********

Later they were in bed together, naked under the sheets.

“There will be one more robbery,” Illya whispered as he caressed the beautiful skin along her hip. For this last phase, it was crucial that Thrush learn of his plans one way or another. Illya hoped that the news would be leaked to them by the listening devices rather than by Vicky. But that would soon be up to her.  
She laughed harshly. “You’re joking.”  
“I never joke about an assignment.”  
She turned on her side to face him, “Nicholas, you’re crazy. It can’t be done.”  
“Why not?”  
“You just can’t. They know all about you. They will be waiting for you.”  
Illya mused looking up at the ceiling, “Hmmm…. can’t?”

She still couldn’t fathom what he was thinking. After all this time together, she didn’t understand him. She laid a hand across his beautiful chest, “But Nicholas, what would it prove?”  
“It was never about proving something. It was always about the mission. My mission, remember? I am Illya Kuryakin as you pointed out.” Those blue eyes fell on her as he turned his face back to her.

She put her hand to her forehead, confused like he was speaking a foreign language. And maybe Illya was. Dedication to a mission, it was an ideal that was never part of Vicky’s makeup, her thoughts. She played games. She out-maneuvered her prey to get what she wanted. The men in her life tried to control her but she always out played them by playing by her own rules.  
But Illya was not playing. And after all that had happened, her sense was that he had never tried to control her. And now he was giving her a choice.

“What about me?” she asked as she watched his face, those deep blue eyes that even now could captivate her. “I should just sit here and do nothing?”  
“That’s it. You just let me try.”

She sat up in bed, surprised at what he was asking of her.  
But he knew full well what he was asking her. He turned to look at her with a small smile. “After all, you said it yourself. It is my funeral,” he said quietly. “You were just along for the ride, right?”  
The shock of his words, her words from the very beginning, hit her like a slap across the face. 

He turned gracefully away and left the bed to go take a shower. She swallowed. It was her decision to make. He had already made his.

**********

“I say the hell with it. I say we pick him up. Now!”  
The next morning Vicky was reporting back to Yuri. “If you take him now, you will lose all the money. We wait him out. We can catch him, his team, and the money all at once. You’ll see.”  
“I’ll see all right. I’ll tell you what I see. I see a fiasco. I see our heads blown off execution style.” Yuri paced with frustration.  
The man was U.N.C.L.E. He was the threat and he needed to be taken out now! It was all so clear for him.

Noticing how quiet she was, for the first time since Yuri knew her, she looked rattled. “Look, if you don’t have anything to say, what does he have to say? He’s put himself in a very bad position. If you are in control, he just delivered himself up on a silver plate.”  
She flung her arms out in frustration. “I talk about it – he talks around it.”  
“Talk?! You sure you find time to talk?” Yuri asked sarcastically.  
“Enough!” she said as she walked away. _‘She was choosing to betray him’_ , she screamed in thought. Well, what did Illya expect? She was, after all, Thrush.

**********

“It is almost done.” Illya was cooking meat strips and vegetables outside on an open grill. He wanted Vicky outside, away from the listening devices.  
The smell was exquisite. “What is this? A last supper?” her joke fell lame.

Illya stood and came over to kneel in front of her. He reached out, his fingers caressing her face, “The last robbery will be tomorrow.”  
She froze. “Where?” she asked before even thinking.  
He leaned back and then moved to sit beside her, “I will tell you where the pick up is. You can meet me there. Then it is over.” 

Napoleon would kill him if he knew that he was making her this offer. But Illya had to try for her sake.

Vicky visibly sagged at the impossible situation that she was finding herself in. Every fiber in her body pleaded, “Illya, don’t do this. Don’t test me. Not this way, not…not if you love me.”  
Illya shook his head. He wouldn’t let her use that.  
“I’ve got to know where you stand, Vicky. Time is running out. I’ve got to know what side you are on. I think you’ve got to know also.”

Vicky shook her head at the tension. Her body trembled. Illya quietly took her into his arms to hold her close, “No tears. Not for us.”  
He took her chin and gave her a slow, tender kiss.  
Her need coming through, she soon pressed her body into him for more and he responded by opening himself up to her.  
They stayed outside by the fire for the rest of the night.

**********


	9. Chapter 9

#### ACT VIII - _“Treachery in the end, betrays itself.”_

The last robbery went off without a hitch. Thrush was taken completely by surprise as Illya sent his team to rob the same offices that he had hit the first time. He had been right. Not only were they not expecting the U.N.C.L.E. agent to repeat himself, they had stock piled much of their cash there thinking it was safe. Thrush had learned by the listening devices that another robbery was about to happen. But without Vicky’s knowledge of the drop-off site, they wouldn’t have all the pieces.

As before, the getaway car drove through the streets of Moscow to the old Cemetery in the outskirts of the city. There a man got out of the car and delivered all the briefcases into a trash can at a specific grave site marker.  
This time, however, several other cars were hidden around the site to watch. They watched silently as all the briefcases were unloaded and left. Krotin was in the front car, front seat. Andersen and Richter were in the same car watching from the back seat. “The car is pulling out now,” Krotin said into the Thrush communicator. “Pick up the car outside the Cemetery.” 

Turning in his seat, Richter addressed the woman. “This is a big day for you, Vicky. This is everything you wanted. This is playing with the big guys now. Recovering the money alone would be enough to put you high in Thrush Central. With the death of one of U.N.C.L.E.’s top agent’s, the one to almost undermine the Soviet plan, you could easily call your own assignments from now on. You will be the highest-ranking woman within Thrush.”  
Vicky looked out the window as she noticed he still ranked her among the women not the men.

“Now what?” Yuri asked from the front.  
Vicky swallowed, “Now we wait.” Her fingers restlessly pulling at her strand necklace.  
“You’re sure he’ll come?”  
“I’m sure. Of course, I’m sure.” Yuri and Richter shared a look.

Time passed. A line of funeral cars began to slowly approach and passed.

More time passed.  
Yuri turned back to the woman, his face tight and pale. “All right then, where is he? Did you tell us everything?” Yuri was getting very nervous. 

Suddenly over the communicator they heard, “A car is coming.” Both Vicky and Yuri jumped. Vicky sat up with her jaw clenched. She nearly tore her pearl necklace off as she wound it tightly around her fingers.

She watched as Yuri and the other agents checked their weapons making sure they were loaded. She saw the snipers on the roof crouch down in readiness, the sight scopes adjusted. All were ready for the approaching target – Illya. _‘It is my funeral,’_ he had said. She shivered as his words came back to haunt her.

As the dark blue Mercedes approached them, Yuri grinned in anticipation. “All right. All agents move out. Box him in.” Dozens of cars came out of hiding. It was a wonder they didn’t collide as they all converged on their victim’s car. 

Vicky jumped out and was the first to open the approaching car’s driver door. “You said! You said it was your funeral so …” Stunned, she saw that Illya was not there.

**********

Back at Thrush offices there was one small difference in this robbery. The briefcases did not contain the money. Illya had his team drop the actual money sacks in the Fourth-Floor washroom trash while they took the empty briefcases out to the awaiting car. He himself entered the wash room dressed as custodial staff. 

Illya paused at the irony. This part of the plan would not have worked if not that most of the Thrush agents were out at the cemetery – at Vicky’s direction. He shook his head sadly at the choices they all had to make, that she made.

It was just his bad luck that as he loaded up a van outside, a Thrush agent saw him and shots were fired before he dispatched the guard. He was still able to load up the suitcases with the money and make his flight to Geneva. The bullet wound in his side slowed him down but once he was on the plane he would rest.

**********

“Are you Miss Vicky Andersen?”  
It was the SBI assistant from Illya’s office that was driving the car. A blue car. “I have an envelope for you.”  
She walked away from the chaos of the frustrated Thrush agents to open the envelope.

_“Left early. I know you can’t come but keep the car._

_I know you had to tell them._

_All my love,_

_Illya.”_

In the background she heard reports that none of the money was found in the trash, that someone had picked up the bulk of the money back at the offices, that shots had been fired, that some agents were rushing to the airport, and that Geneva would be put on alert to watch for the plane landing.

She stood, alone, beside the grave site marker in shock. Not having a knowledge of Russian Cyrillic, she missed the inscription.

_“Treachery in the end, betrays itself.”_

**********

Illya knew he needed to get off the plane. The plane had landed in London, not Geneva as Thrush thought. His fellow passengers were disembarking. He knew he desperately needed to get onto official English soil. His partner would be waiting for him in the terminal. If he could only get up out of the seat and walk.  
But as he closed his eyes to the debate between his body and his thoughts, he didn’t know where he was going to get the strength. His thoughts turned to what would happen if he didn’t get up and get to safety.  
He could vaguely hear voices and movement around the near-empty plane. But for all his worth, he was spent and sinking fast. There was no hope for it.

“What are you waiting for? Christmas?” And there was his partner, his hand out to help him up. Illya almost missed the look of relief on his partner’s face as Illya weakly opened his eyes.

Napoleon saw Illya’s left arm was hidden under his jacket against his right side protectively. “Illya, what have you done?”  
Without waiting for his question to be answered, Napoleon drew Illya’s arm back and immediately saw the blood staining his hand. Napoleon’s eyes shot back to his partner’s face in question and concern.

“A parting gift from Thrush” Illya said simply. 

If he had been bleeding all this time, Napoleon could see why Illya was too weak to leave the plane. It also meant that he was probably in shock and close to passing out.  
“I have just the thing” his partner replied.  
Napoleon quickly called up the waiting ambulance and they brought a stretcher aboard the plane.  
Clutching his side to hold back the pain, Illya eyed the gurney in alarm “That had better not be for me.” 

Napoleon expected this reaction and tried to explain. “Look, partner….”  
But Illya stopped him with a growl, “I can walk.”

It was hard to talk and Illya was having trouble getting his breath, but he was surprised that his partner had a stretcher waiting. “How… how did you even know I would be injured?”  
Napoleon sighed as the medic applied a pressure bandage to Illya’s side, “Illya since when do you not need an ambulance.”  
The Russian scowled and then hissed as the bandage was applied.

“Besides its great cover and an excellent way to hide your precious suitcases” Napoleon said reasonably. Unfortunately, his partner passed out before he could appreciate Napoleon’s foresight.

Napoleon and the medic quickly got Illya settled on the gurney, his luggage underneath, and off the plane into the waiting ambulance.

**********

  


#### EPILOGE

See next post.


	10. Chapter 10

#### EPILOGE 

The hospital room was softly lit highlighting the man lying in the single bed. A woman entered quietly, barely generating a breeze as she moved slowly to the patient’s side. Her body changed from careful stealth to gentle concern in a split second as she took in the pale face lined with pain lying before her. Without thinking she reached out to touch the face, to draw the bangs gently away…

“Stop right there,” came the voice of the partner.  
“Napoleon Solo I believe.”  
“And you are Vicky Andersen, I presume.”  
She smiled and Napoleon easily saw the striking beauty shine out. Illya was right, she was quite stunning.

“What are you doing here? You could be terminated for just being here.”  
“No. It would make them uneasy, to be sure. But I had to come, you see. I had to see for myself that he was all right. He will survive this, yes?”  
“They removed the bullet. He will survive this” Napoleon said not knowing if he really meant the injury or his partner’s encounter with this extraordinary woman.

“You and I, Napoleon… May I call you Napoleon?”  
Napoleon nodded in assent.  
“You and I are alike, I believe. We have encounters and have fun with them. We take them half way, you know?” The woman’s eyes were crystal pools. Maybe made more so that way because at the moment they were glistening with tears.

Napoleon only saw how vulnerable she looked at that moment – or was it an act. With Professionals you could never tell so he stayed silent.

“But with this one.” She nodded towards Illya laying in a deep, drugged sleep. “With Illya, there is no half way is there? With him it is all or none. Maybe that is why he is as good as he is. It is all or none with him in all things. I envy you your relationship with him.”

Their eyes locked in silent connection. Napoleon glanced over at Illya. Yes, he would agree. It was never half way with Illya.

“Funny. If I hadn’t betrayed him, you would never have gotten the last of the money.”  
She looked up at Napoleon and then down at the sleeping man.  
“But I guess he knew that also didn’t he.”  
She touched his lips. Her voice broke as she said, “Tell him …. tell him I love the car very much.” 

Suddenly the door to Illya’s room opened and an orderly entered, “Excuse me. You have a clean-up requested?”  
Before Napoleon could respond another visitor came in. “Did anyone here ask for books to read?”  
“Excuse me, I have a report of some equipment that needs fixing?”  
Soon Illya’s room was inundated with hospital staff. Napoleon immediately went into bodyguard mode and put himself between his sleeping partner and the crowd but he had to admit he was impressed. It was one of the best-orchestrated diversions he had experienced, for the woman was gone.

**********

**Author's Note:**

> And if a smiling whim touches your heart , please leave a bit of feedback.


End file.
